Wintergirl
by CoachLover18
Summary: She hates her body. All she sees is fat and imperfections. It's not long before she's playing in a deadly game, but just how far will she go? Will anyone save her before it's too late? "You're not dead, but you're not alive. You're a wintergirl..." Story about anorexia.


**So this is a little story that I started back in 2012, but I ended up giving up on it. With my return to writing FanFiction I decided to bring some of my incomplete stories back with rewrites. This story was original titled 'She's a Wintergirl'. I wasn't too sure about bringing this one back until I got a little PM from R.C. Babcock in which she said something that gave me an idea for a major plot-line in this story. The original version of this story just kind of jumped right into it with not much backstory at all. So here you'll find the prologue before I really get into the story. I hope you guys enjoy this rewrite and if you've read the very short original, please let me know if this one is an improvement.**

 **Thanks again to R.C. Babcock!**

* * *

 **Prologue**

For as long as she could remember, C.C. has been expected to look a certain way, mostly by her mother. Not a hair could be out of place, not a wrinkle on her clothes, and not a blemish on her face. Of course there was an even bigger thing B.B. Babcock focused on, maintaining a certain weight.

C.C. could distinctly recall a time when she was just twelve years of age. That was the year her mother had tried to control her diet and weight.

It was during dinner when it first happened. When the plate was put down in front of her, C.C. had looked down at her dinner, curiosity dancing in her eyes. Slowly she picked up a piece of food, if you could call it that, and pinching it between her thumb and index finger, she studied it closely.

"Is this even edible?" Disbelief and confusion were evident in her voice. It looked like the leaves that were currently falling from the trees outside.

Glaring at her daughter, B.B began explaining slowly as if she thought her daughter was stupid, "We're Babcock's, C.C. We have a certain image to uphold." She scanned C.C.'s body up and down with a critical eye.

Still with a look of confusion on her face, C.C. felt her stomach start to growl and decided to suck it up and eat her leaves.

That's the way things continued on as C.C grew up. Eventually she caught on to what her mother was doing, trying to make her maintain a weight B.B. deemed acceptable. C.C. however, was always level headed and never let it get to her.

When it came time for her to go off to high school, B.B. took her daughter shopping for new school clothes. She was sure that with the diet she put her daughter on the last few months that C.C. had to have gone down a few dress sizes and she could finally debut her skinner, flawless daughter. She could finally be proud of her. Obviously B.B. never did anything for another person without a selfish reason behind it.

After searching around the store, C.C. finally found a few items she liked and went to the fitting room to try them on. She particularly loved the pair of jeans she found. When she put them on, an instant smile played on her lips. They were a light wash with a little flare at the bottom and they hugged her perfectly. She felt amazing in them. She pulled back the curtain of the fitting room to a smirking B.B. Babcock. Ignoring the look on her mother's face, she did a little turn still smiling.

"What size?" Feeling a little confused, C.C. wondered why that even mattered.

"They're a four," she looked at her mother with confusion, but quickly recovered smiling again, "Don't they look great?!"

B.B. deadpanned, "Get the two's." She looked at her mother with a slight glare.

"But they look great!" She was beginning to grow frustrated with her mother now. She really loved the way the pants made her look.

"Well I'm not getting the size four, C.C." B.B. was no longer looking at her daughter to see the irritation on C.C.'s face. Instead she was searching for the jeans she wanted in a size two.

"But I am a size four!" 14-year-old C.C. exclaimed, only growing more and more irritated with her mother.

Finding the jeans in a size two and handing them off to C.C. along with her credit card, she told her, "When you're a size two I'll get you the pants, as many as you want. So either you get two's or you don't get the pants at all." She left the stuff in a huff, disappointed that the fantasy of her skinny, perfect daughter wouldn't be coming true anytime soon.

Back in the store, C.C. examined the size two's her mother just handed her. 'If I try to fit in these, I won't be able to breathe.' Didn't her mother realize that the size doesn't matter? All that mattered was if it flattered and you felt confident in it. She let out a sigh of frustration before she was hit with an idea.

Smirking at her idea, she headed back in the fitting room where she switched the tags of the size two jeans with the tags of the size fours. Now B.B. will believe she bought the twos and C.C. could have the pants she loved and still be able to breathe. Satisfied with her work, she took her items up to the register to check out, promising herself she would never let her mother break her self-esteem and make her hate her weight.

Little did she know that was easier said than done.


End file.
